


Soft

by DestielAddicted



Series: Soft/Harsh [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel is depressed, Depression, M/M, Short drabble bc i got bored, Suicide, Toxic Relationship, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2017-02-27
Packaged: 2018-09-27 05:49:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9979154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DestielAddicted/pseuds/DestielAddicted
Summary: Castiel knows he is hard to love. He knows Dean is tired of trying. He's tired too.





	

Castiel lays on his side, underneath the thick fabric of not one, but two blankets. The first one; a heated one, the upside is red and soft, the bottom is wool and also soft. The second blanket us a brown color, and thick, it provides extra warmth and comfort.

Dean's words play over and over in his mind.

He doesn't like when Dean yells at him, it makes him feel stupid.

He is stupid.

Alone in the dark it's just his thoughts, he sniffles twice and sighs. His cheeks are just barely drying and tear tracks are invisible lines on his skin.

He wonders if Dean called him names. He probably did. It doesn't anger Castiel or make him sad, he's used to others being judgemental, he's used to the mean.

He's used to Dean's mean too. Dean can be very mean. They've lasted so long because of their cycle.

Dean yells at Castiel, calls him names, tells him to leave his apartment. Castiel leaves without protest, too afraid to speak out. If he were to, Dean wouldn't love him anymore. Dean sends gifts, bears and flowers and candies.

Sometimes there's a note, but it only ever has a two word apology on it and the man's initials.

Castiel likes to keep the flowers, he either presses them into a scrapbook or picks the petals apart and sprinkles them onto the floor of his bedroom until they wither away, like he does. He sets the bears on a shelf in his closet, he likes to look at them. He doesn't eat the candies, chocolate makes him sick, but he saves the boxes and fills them with jello.

He saves the cards too, when he gets one. Almost twenty of them reside in his dresser drawer with his shirts.

There's a soft knock at his apartment door, a timid little sound that has Castiel curling further into his blankets. The knock doesn't continue and after a few seconds of silence, there's shuffling and the sound of a key turning the locks. Castiels knows that no one comes to visit him, and only Dean knows about the spare key hidden above the door.

Castiel trembles.

He doesn't like Dean to see him sad. Dean only ever gets to see him sad when Dean calls Castiel names and tells him to get out, and it doesn't seem to affect him. Castiel clutches his blankets and he feels a tear slide down his temple.

"Hey Angel..." he hears Dean's voice crack, followed by a grunt and a sniffle.

"Can I come in, baby? Please?"

Castiel doesn't say anything, but he can hear the sound of his own breathing, it's heavy and deep as he tries to hold back tears. Dean will feel bad if he sees Castiel crying. Castiel doesn't want Dean to feel bad, because everything Dean says is true.

Castiel is too hard to want to be around.

Castiel is too hard to take care of.

Castiel is too hard to love.

Castiel is simple, slow, annoying, needy, clingy, and so much more.

The bed dips behind Castiel as Dean takes a seat and Castiel listens to the rustle of the man taking off his boots.

"I uh, I know you don't like shoes on your bed..." Dean says with a forced chuckle, but it doesn't put a dent in the tension surrounding them.

The bed moves again and Castiel feels Dean's breath on the back of his neck. He feels goosebumps rise to the area. Dean wraps his arms around the dark haired man underneath the blankets and sniffles, burying his face into his neck and shaking.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry...please...I need you," Dean whispers.

Castiel doesn't make a sound, his breathing slows down slightly and his eyes scan the floor beside the bed.

"Come back home, b-back home with me...move in with me. I love you...you're not needy or clingy or annoying...I wanna take care of you a-and love you...I'm sorry."

Searching blue eyes find the empty pill bottle of his anxiety medicine a few feet away from the bed. He immediately regrets what he's done. His eyes slowly droop shut.

He doesn't wake up.


End file.
